He Who Must Not Be Moaned

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          Voldemort huffed out of his flat nose, his slits widening slightly. His blue crystal cerulean azure orbs bored into my plain dirt ones. My heartbeat began to race. What was happening? What was this feeling erupting inside of me? Was it-

          "Mop the floors wench!" Voldemort growled, his low voice reverberating through the empty chamber. He reached his veiny arm back and smacked my phat ass, making the sound echo.

          "Ahhhhhh! What was that for??" I questioned in protest, setting my mop down.

         "Don't get too flattered, I meant to hit your face," Voldemort smirked a toothy grin. "And as the muggles say, bring a bucket and a mop."

          "For what?" I acted dumb. After all, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

          "You know what, y/n." Voldemort growled again, grabbing my arm.

          "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-" I stuttered, but I wasn't afraid. I didn't know what this feeling was. It was like a fire burning in my stomach.

          "Shut up bitch," He grabbed my jaw and glided over to the bedroom.

And well... you know what happened next ;)

A/N: So I actually just got out of my coma and I found out that all my family died in the car crash. I am paralyzed from the waist down and also have dyslexia. The doctors say I have a 10% chance of making it, but I want to spend my last days doing something I love.
Next Chapter coming soon!

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